I Am Very Likely Moving back to Oregon

Jill just announced to me that she she is moving to Charlotte, North Carolina.  It took me months to convince her to rearrange the furniture in her front room, but she’s already decided to uproot herself and her son and move to the town of the person she’s only been “officially” seeing for under a month.  But never mind about that.  The point is that I’ll be coming to your state (if you happen to live in Oregon), and I’ll be in the mood for companionship and beer and vast quantities of perversion (Portland is one of the pervy-est cities in America).

So, the call is out to all cool people, all single people, all people who want to get together for unorthodox and string-free dirty fetish activities: I’m coming home.

Stay tuned.

Hoodie Day

Today was the first hoodie day of fall, which is a much clearer seasonal milestone to my way of thinking than some arbitrary date on a calender.  So, autumn has officially arrived, and with it delicious turkey dinners and trick-or-treating (for the kids that actually still do that) and spooks and goblins and crisp, colorful leaves.

It’s all fun and games until the snow comes along and wrecks everything.

Just to Put It out There

Relationships built on lies, deception, and another human being’s pain and humiliation never last long.  At least, I’ve never seen it happen.  The way you begin your relationship colors every aspect of it from that day forward, and you started this one in about the trashiest, clumsiest and most heartless way possible.  No matter where you go, you’re always going to remember that you had to run a man down and crush his soul to get there.

Enjoy the ride.

In Which I Lose Followers, Blow My Chances at Ever Being President, and Offend Christine O'Donnell in One Fell Swoop

I just watched two sexy young girls deep-tongue each other’s assholes, which I find sexually arousing, during which time I stimulated myself until orgasm, and I don’t feel remotely guilty about it.

This is real freedom, you tea-partying, God-fearing morons: the freedom to be a pervert.  You have your idea of America, and I have mine.  In my America, you can watch women doing sexy things to one another whenever you damn well feel like it.  Also, the fire department shows up and saves your house from burning down without extorting you for money first.

Time to Make up Your Minds

Here are some pics of the Batmobile from various sources.

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This is more or less the original Batmobile, with a big-ass fin and a silly Batface on the front of it, Batman drove versions of this basic design for decades.

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The 60’s came, and with them this Batmobile, based on a Lincoln chassis.  This is the Batmobile of my youth, so I won’t bag on it too much, except to mention that it’s a big, fucking impractical piece of crap.

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The Batmobile of the Batman animated series was cool, but look how long that damn thing is!  I would think that Batman would favor stealth and maneuverability over luxury.  Something interesting: no matter how huge the Batmobile, what they all seem to have in commen is the most absolutely cramped cockpit imaginable.

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This is Joel Schumacher’s Batmobile.  Let’s move on.

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This is Christopher Nolan’s Batmobile, arguably the most practical of the bunch.  It’s rough, ugly, and to-the-point.  It’s a tool, not a status symbol.

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Here are two Batmobiles I shot today sitting right next to each other on a toy shelf.  You may notice that, though they are part of the same toy line, they look completely different from each other.

Which brings us to my point: please, comic artists, movie-makers, animators, and toy manufacturers: FIGURE OUT WHAT THE DAMN BATMOBILE IS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE.  You can’t just slap a Bat-symbol on any black or blue car, throw a couple fins on it and call it a damn Batmobile!  The Batmobile is one specific car, Batman’s car, and I think you’d be doing us all a favor if you at least made a stab at consistency.  As a Batman fan, I’m getting a little of sick of him constantly having a new set of wheels every time it’s time for action.

Afterward:

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I rest my damn case.